


Re:nascitur

by MarieanMuse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - 1940s, F/M, Fix-It, Reincarnation, Slow Build, Sort Of, Time Travel, not really - Freeform, pureblood!Hermione
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-16 19:10:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12348879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarieanMuse/pseuds/MarieanMuse
Summary: Hermione Granger is reborn as the daughter of the Noble and Ancient House of Black. There is also the tiny detail of it being 1926.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! This is my first Harry Potter fanfic in over 5 years and I really don't know what to say except this plot bunny wouldn't leave me so I had to write it.  
> Tomione is my guilty pleasure, Dramione is my first love and I really wanted to write them once again.
> 
> Normal chapters will be longer than this but still bite-size.
> 
> Fair warning, this be a slow burn.
> 
> (cross-posted on FFN under the same name)

September, 1926

There are some people who swear they can remember their birth - of passing through the haze of darkness and into the light of life, of their first cry in the strange new world.

If you asked Hermione Granger, she could tell you every detail about the day she was reborn as the youngest daughter of Pollux Black of the Ancient and Noble House of Black.

* * *

 

The first thing Hermione notices is the colour red. It's everywhere. The rusty smell burns her nose. Months of fighting and death has her well acquainted to the smell. This smell can only mean something is very wrong. She can't move her limbs, atleast not in the way she wants to. They feel like unknown entities and she can just about jostle them.

Suddenly, a face appears over her. The man seems huge, almost a giant and then Hermione notices that everything else looks big too. It doesn't take too long after to realise that it's not everything else that's big but it's her who is small.

The man lifts her into his arms and a scream escapes her. Only it's nothing like any kind of scream she has heard out of her own mouth. It's a scream of an infant - shrill and sharp. She stops mid-shriek in shock.

The man's face screws into one of mild annoyance and no sooner she is handed down in to the arms of a young house-elf.

"Kreacher, shut her up!" The man gruffly complains and turns to leave before adding, "And, have all the arrangements made for my dear wife's funeral." The tone implies his wife was anything but dear to him.

As soon as the man leaves, Hermione feels the house-elf's eyes on him and she sees the absolute adoration in them. Hermione has seen those wet eyes of adoration before. A certain house-elf from 12 Grimmauld Place whose name was also Kreacher had them for his mistress, Walburga Black. No, it can't be. No no no.

"Kreacher will take care of missy. Kreacher loves missy already. Kreacher is the humblest servant of the noble house of Black and Kreacher-" before Kreacher even finishes his tirade, Hermione let's out the loudest shriek her tiny lungs can breathe out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All feedback is appreciated.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to address one small thing here. I will be keeping Hermione's name as Hermione instead of giving her a new "pureblood" name because a) finding an appropriate new name for her is hard b) she would feel too much like an OC if I did c) kinda fucks with the narration.

12 Grimmauld Place looks nothing like Hermione remembers. The house she remembers was shrouded in disrepair and haunted with ghost of past grandness. This 12 Grimmauld Place doesn't have peeling wallpapers, no fowl stench, and no sign of cobwebs but most importantly, there is no shrieking painting of the late Walburga Black in the foyer.

That is because Walburga Black is very much alive.

Walburga Black is a young girl of no more than 7 years. She comes by an evening to pinch Hermione's cheeks and nose, and coo at her until she eventually gets bored from the lack of response.

Hermione isn't even sure if her newborn face is capable of glaring. She tries nonetheless. Walburga visits her the next day regardless. Hermione reckons she is no more than a fascinating toy for the time being.

One day, Walburga brings a younger toddler with the distinct Black features. Alphard Black. The same Alphard Black who will be removed from the Black tapestry for giving money to his runaway nephew, Sirius.

"Alphard, look this is our sister. Her name is Her-mi-one." Walburga says, over-enunciating her vowels.

"She's so small." Alphard whispers, as if afraid his voice could harm her.

"Babies are always small, idiot. You were that small once, too." Walburga, even at such a young age manages to sound haughty.

Hermione stares into the dark eyes of the toddler. When he hesitantly tries to poke her cheeks, Hermione grabs Alphard's finger in her tiny fist and gives him a gummy smile.

His face lights and behind her Walburga looks like she just bit into a sour lemon.

Alphard comes by every day after that, mostly in the morning when Walburga isn't there. He continues to visit her long after Walburga loses interest in the petulant newborn.

* * *

As an infant Hermione has no control of her body, or specifically its bodily functions. She continues to feel deep shame every time she soils her diapers and Kreacher of all the house-elves changes her diapers. But, one thing she refuses to do is cry. She never cries. Not when she is hungry, not when Walburga pinches her out of frustration because she won't hold her finger in her fist like she held Alphard's the first time. Hermione remains a quiet child as she spends most of her day listlessly staring at the enchanted ceiling in utter confusion and contemplation of her new state.

Hermione realises the errors of her silent rebellion as she overhears Kreacher talking to her "father" about this abnormality.

Pollux Black kicks the house-elf for even suggesting any slight against his youngest daughter.

"She is my blood, the daughter of the Noble and Ancient House of Black." Pollux Black roars furiously. "I can have your head cut off for even trying to besmirch the Black name, you insolent creature. Know your place."

Kreacher is groveling, crying, snot dripping down.

"Please please master, please forgive stupid stupid kre-kreacher. Master, please forgives. Master, Kreacher is sorry." The house elf moves to cling to his master's leg. Immediately, Pollux throws a particular nasty hex towards the elf and the elf falls on his side, howling in pain.

 "You will not be seen anywhere near Hermione." Pollux commands as throws a disgusted look at the elf. "Leave my sight."

When Kreacher doesn't immediately disappear, Pollux roars "NOW, YOU STUPID PIECE OF FILTH!"

And, if possible, the wail of the house-elf increases ten-folds before it apparates away in anguish.

However, the next day there is a Healer trailing behind the Black patriarch.

Hermione's heart thumps in her chest with sudden worry. What if the healer senses she is actually in fact abnormal - an anomaly in time. What if the healer tells her 'father' that their daughter is in fact a time travelling imposter.

Her fears are put to rest when the Healer informs Pollux of her perfect health; even better, the healer suggests the high likelihood of her being a powerful witch. Its a platitude but the Black patriarch takes it at face value and smugly states, "She is a Black after all."

Everything solidifies in her mind following the proclamation. No, this is not a horribly long horrible nightmare. No, this isn't a trick being played on her. She is - in all sense and form- Hermione Black, the daughter of Pollux Black, of the Ancient and Noble House of Black.

* * *

Hermione's new caretaker is named Dott. Dott looks even younger than the Kreacher of this time. And that's how it really is for her now. There is "this time" and the time she once belonged to.

It takes her a few days to come in terms with this, being confined to a newborn body with too much time to think helps. That's all her body is capable to do anyways. Think. So she does.

She thinks of Harry, her parents, and Voldemort. She thinks of events yet to come. She thinks of time travel and concept of alternative universes. She thinks of Sirius, Regulus, Alphard, Kreacher and pureblood supremacy. She thinks of Hogwarts and magic. She thinks of the distinction between good and evil, of morality. She thinks of nurture and nature. She thinks of plans, contingencies, strategies. She thinks of madness.

She thinks.

She compartmentalises.

She prioritises.

She thinks of Draco Malfoy and all the ways she will murder him when she gets her hands on him.

She thinks to the point of exhaustion.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to age up Hermione too quickly because I feel her developmental stages are equally important in forging relationship and understanding the wizarding and pureblood culture.
> 
> With that said, there will be timeskips but not huge jumps. Also, this is a short one.

Days turn to weeks and weeks turn to months.

Hermione can finally crawl; she almost cries in joy. It's almost become a game to see how far she can crawl before Dott will pick her up and place her back in the play pen. She usually makes it to the mahogany door of her room, her little prison. But every prison has recreational activities and for Hermione, they come in the form of Alphard.

One day, Alphard brings his copy of The Beedle and the Bard and tries to read to her.

She appreciates it even though she can clearly tell he can't really read very well at his age. She tries to smile encouragingly when he fumbles over simple words; she gurgles with encouragement, which makes the toddler respond back with a positively blinding smile and even greater enthusiasm to read.

Alphard's personal house-elf, Tripsy watching the boy struggle offers to read to them both but Alphard stomps his chubby legs and twists his mouth into a pout. Eventually, Alphard relents, realising he may need the help of someone  _slightly_  more experienced than him. He allows the house-elf to read them the stories. Tripsy looks beyond honoured.

So, every evening after supper, Alphard brings his storybooks and has the house-elf read to them until they both fall into peaceful slumber cuddling each other.

Hermione is not sure what she expects from the children's stories at first. Perhaps, she expects stories to be vastly different from the stories she was read by her parents growing up. And they are but once one strips away the element of magic, they resemble Muggle fairytales and fables in the sense these stories are told to children to teach morals; the underlying message is more often than not about the victory of the virtuous good. Virtue is usually rewarded and wickedness punished. She wonders if Pollux Black would say otherwise.

Shockingly, there isn't anything about blood supremacy either. She bitterly wonders when that gets added into the curriculum for a pureblood child, when the brainwashing begins; considering she is a Black, she assumes it will be sooner than later.

Hermione really doesn't want sweet little Alphard tainted by it. She cannot bear to see her sweet Alphard grow up prejudiced in any way. She will protect him, she vows.

It's only appropriate when weeks later, her first word turns out to be a slightly skewed version of 'Alphard'. Of course, Alphard doesn't stop smiling for days straight after the incidence.

Pollux Black hardly ever visits her and when he does, it is for no more than a few minutes. Walburga visits her occasionally. Cygnus, her eldest brother is away at Hogwarts and she hasn't seen him since Christmas. He wasn't any warmer to her than their father usually is. She also hasn't seen Kreacher since the day her  _father_  kicked him out. She knows he isn't dead because Dott sometimes mumbles about him.

So far, every day passes by any major incidence. Then, Alphard makes his first display of accidental magic in June and lands her in St. Mungo's.

* * *

When Hermione opens her eyes, there is a Healer hovering her. She can tell they are in St Mungo's instantly from the colour of the Healer's robe.

It takes a while to recall what happened and it all comes back to her. Alphard's hand glowing bright purple and then the sudden explosion.

'Oh Merlin! Is Alphard alright?' She can't help but panic but the pitter patter of tiny feet soothes her as she sees the running figure of the boy lean on her bed, muttering just a litany of 'sorry', sobbing profusely. He looks terrible.

The extent and outcome of her injury is a fractured arm even though she was unconscious for five hours.

Alphard looks racked with guilt. She curses her fragile body. Even more so when they don't give her skele-grow due to her age. The fractures have to be set back the Muggle way, they tell her father, much to his disgust.

Hermione's life doesn't get better nor worse for her after that but she gets one over-protective brother out of it. Her head also fills with questions about her own magic that she hasn't felt since the day she was reborn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, reviews are much appreciated :)


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For future reference, Alphard is 4 years older than Hermione, Walburga is 7 years older and Cygnus is 15 years older, give or take a few months.

 

**August, 1927**

Alphard turns five in late summer.

He is gifted a broomstick by their Aunt Dorea. Hermione can't help but smile at her every time she sees her.

Dorea, Harry's grandmother. Hermione doesn't remember too much about Harry's grandparents other than Dorea will be blasted from the family tree for marrying the blood traitor, Charlus Potter. Of course, this Dorea is too young, barely in her twenties, unaware of her fate nor her child's fate.

The thought sobers her; the burden of her knowledge.

"Aunt Dorea, thank you thank you! I love it!" Alphard rushes out as he tears the wrapping with gusto and mounts the broom which begins to hover slightly above ground. The broom is a child's version of the real thing and won't do much more than that but the little boy is all too content from the simple hovering.

"Dorea, the boy is too young." Pollux comments sipping on his tea. His dark hair is slicked back and tied back with a ribbon. He looks every inch the aristocratic pureblood the Blacks claim to be.

"As if you weren't riding that thing at that age, brother." Dorea snipes and Pollux snorts unattractively, curling his lips in disapproval.

"I will owl you when he breaks a bone." He retorts, then changes the subject. "How is Romania?"

"Oh Pollux! Romania is beautiful. You should come visit with your children. They will love the dragons. Even Cygnus is home from Hogwarts right now."

"Dragons!? Can we go see the dragons, father?" Walburga asks starry-eyed. It's almost impossible for Hermione to hate Walburga for her future actions when she displays such childish innocence.

"Aunt Dorea, did you read what Dumbledore published recently? 12 uses of Dragon blood?" Cygnus chimes in, trying to act far more mature than his sixteen year old self. "I hear the Ministry is planning to award him."

"The ministry will be awarding house-elves next." Pollux says snidely. Hermione scowls.

Before Dorea can retort, which she looks more than ready to, Pollux holds his hand up.

"Moving on, have you thought about marriage once you have your fill of this silly adventure, Dorea? You aren't getting any younger."

"Brother, we are not having this conversation right now. Its Alphard's birthday. Can we not?" Dorea sighs, folding her arms and leaning back in her chair. "And it's not a silly adventure, it's my job."

"First Cassiopeia and now you. I will not be surrounded by spinster sisters." Pollux sniffs.

"Looks like that's your life calling, Pollux." Dorea's voice takes on the same edge as her older brother. "You even have two daughters, maybe they will take after their aunts."

"Cygnus, take your siblings to their room." Pollux's voice is flat, devoid of any emotions but Hermione feels the change in the entire atmosphere of the room.

Cygnus picks her up by her unbroken arm. Hermione can just about walk on two feet with help, so she wobbles on her two feet as Cygnus then goes to grab Alphard's hand, who clearly doesn't understand what's going on. He still has a grab on the broom and drags it with him.

"Alphard, leave the broom now." Pollux commands.

Alphard, too young to truly understand the underlying tension, starts begging his father, "but father, I promise I will be careful."

It happens too quickly, Pollux backhands the toddler. Silence reigns in the hall.

"Oh Pollux!" Dorea gasps

Alphard stands still as a statue, but soon enough the dams burst open and he begins to cry his lungs out.

Pollux takes another step, hands raised but Dorea is already behind him, grabbing at her brother's arm lightly shaking her head.

"Cygnus take Hermione and Walburga to their room." Pollux commands but even Cygnus is frozen in fear.

"Now!" Pollux yells.

Cygnus scrambles away quickly, quickly letting go of his grip on Alphard and picking Walburga instead. Hermione stumbles and falls, unused to walking so quickly but Cygnus stubbornly manages to drag her away along with Walburga. Hermione last sees Pollux standing threateningly over Alphard and can't help but worry for her brother who has already carved a huge portion for himself in her heart.

* * *

Hermione doesn't see Alphard that day, nor does she see him for a week. She even sees Cygnus during that time.

Alphard visits her early morning exactly a week later when she is sat in the garden picking flowers. He looks horrible, even more so than the time she was in the hospital and the boy had drowned himself in guilt. He looks like he has been crying.

Hermione immediately waddles over to him as fast her tiny legs will let her. She proudly stands in front of him and hands him the slightly crushed marigold flower, and enunciates the best she can, "Happy bway, Alphard"

Alphard looks taken aback but soon the biggest smile graces his face as he takes the flowers, eyes marveling at the simple offering.

The golden flower couldn't be more precious to him if it was made of actual gold.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will be going on a hiatus. Perhaps a month or two.
> 
> So far, I posted chapters as I finished writing them. I was also on vacation so I had plenty of time. However, now college has started again and semester exams are nearing.  
> But, more than anything else, I want to have most of this story written before I start posting chapters so I can maintain a regular update schedule.  
> I hope you this doesn't put you off the story because I promise to return as soon as possible.  
> I have been humbled your your reviews and interest in the story and I do not wish to disappoint.  
> Hope you have a nice day.
> 
> MM


End file.
